


Heart of Flames

by straylize



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Female My Unit | Byleth, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Spoilers, I have no idea what I'm doing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, another one of those filling in the five year gap fics, why are felix and slyvain here? because they're recruits in my heart and i can't leave them out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-10-05 17:29:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20492573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straylize/pseuds/straylize
Summary: Five years, and he had no intent of giving up on her. Claude may have had plenty on his plate, but once every year, he would return to that promised place with the intent of seeing her face once more. Each year added more experience and maturity, each year brought a new tale to tell, and a new memory to bring back with him to Derdriu. Each year, everyone saw that nobody in all of Fódlan could replace Byleth's presence in his life.(Spoilers for Chapter 12 + Golden Deer route)





	1. Smoldering Battlefield

**** ** _Verdant Wind._ **

** _Lone Moon._ **

** _Year 1180._ **

__

The battle had come to a close. The scent of war permeated the air—a combination of smoke, ash and blood that could turn even the strongest of stomachs. Garreg Mach was burning; portions of the town had crumbled, unstable cliffs had given way under the weight of all that had transpired. Organized strategy had given way to utter chaos. Formations had broken, lives had been lost. The streets were littered with the bodies of Adrestian Empire soldiers, of the Knights of Seiros, and of students of the Officer’s Academy that had fought valiantly in an attempt to protect the revered Archbishop Rhea and the whole of Garreg Mach Monastery.

The aftermath was hideous. The remnants of the battlefield made it near-impossible to tell who had even  _ won _ , but those who were still standing all knew very plainly—Edelgard came. She saw. She  _ conquered. _

All that could be done in the wake of that declaration of war was to pick up the pieces and figure out precisely what would come next. The grounds of the monastery were likely in shambles, and with the location now a literal wa rzone and target for further attack, it would be unsafe for students and staff alike to remain there.

“Not the kind of fanfare I would have recommended for the graduating class…” The words escaped Claude’s lips in a tone that was equal parts lighthearted and faintly bitter; a humorless laugh followed as he gripped his bow tightly. The battle may have ended, but his work was not yet done. As the battle formations had broken and chaos erupted beneath the appearance of dragon that had suddenly appeared over the battlefield, Claude had lost sight of everyone else that he’d been fighting alongside.

Even Byleth, who’d remained by his side for a good portion of their defense, was nowhere in sight. His head dipped a little, a tired smile faintly crossing his lips. “You just couldn’t wait to check on them yourself first, huh, Teach.”

That was her way, after all. Byleth may have been quiet and hard to read on many occasions, but there had been little denying that she looked out for everyone—not just  _ her _ students, but all of the other students, as well as the staff. The idea of her going on ahead to do a headcount and check for casualties and injuries alike didn’t seem surprising at all to Claude, not in the slightest. He needed to do his part too, as House Leader. The quicker they could gather everyone up and see where they stood, the sooner they’d be able to regroup and figure out what came next. And there would definitely be a  _ next _ , because he was positive that Edelgard would be back to try to finish the job at any cost.

There wasn’t any time to waste, though it didn’t take Claude more than a turn of his head to spot a familiar face. Hilda wasn’t too far from him, surrounded by the burning rubble of a collapsed house. Her armor was scuffed, her axe broken, and though she was covered in sweat and soot, she appeared relatively unscathed.

“You holding up okay, Hilda?” He made his approach, and though he did all he could to keep his tone even and light as it ever was, there was an underlying air of trepidation in his voice that Hilda was unable to miss.

“Sweaty and totally  _ gross _ , but I’m okay. No injuries here or anything like that.”

It was obvious to Claude that she was also  _ exhausted, _ but he could at least feel a minor weight of relief lifted from his shoulders. “Glad to hear it. What about the others? Have you seen them?”

There wasn’t really any time to waste, as far as he was concerned. There were too many things to do—account for injuries and lost lives, make arrangements for them, tend to injuries, survey the damage around the rest of Garreg Mach, and begin to come up with a course of action.

“Well, I saw Lorenz and Marianne a few minutes ago. I think they were starting to get the injured back to the monastery.” The exhaustion crept through in her tone; for once, it seemed that her lack of an offer to help wasn’t just sheer laziness, but from being legitimately worn down. 

Claude paused and offered her a nod before he spoke anything else. “...What about Teach? Did you see her pass by?”

“You mean she’s not with you? Or, I guess, she wasn’t with you? The last time I saw the Professor…”

“She ran off in the other direction. Right around the time that… dragon took to the sky.”

The downward curve of Hilda’s frown seemed to only deepen further at the notion. She’d grown accustomed to the fact that Byleth had a tendency to stay close to Claude in battle; they had a synergy that was hard for anyone else to match when faced against even the most imposing of foes. His leadership working in tandem with her tactical prowess, their combined strengths complementing one another—it was for that reason that even students from Manuela and Hanneman’s classes had wanted to make the switch into Byleth’s class and learn from their skills. So for Hilda to hear that Byleth had taken off on her own, and now even  _ Claude _ didn’t know where she was? 

It was troubling at best… and completely horrifying at worst. It was easy to believe she would be okay, given her skill and prowess in battle. But even still, one could never be too sure when the chaos of war was rearing it's head, right?

“I’m gonna keep looking for her,” Claude interjected, not giving Hilda the chance to respond. She knew that tone well—the rare occasions where the light of his tone gave way to being completely serious. It was a side of Claude few ever saw, but Hilda knew better than most that Claude was no fool, even if he constantly gave off the appearance of being untrustworthy. The tone didn’t appear to linger, though; the next words he spoke sounded as casual as recitations of poison recipes. “And everyone else, too. You should get back inside the monastery gates and start scoping the damage. Let’s regroup at nightfall so we can assess everything.”

It was strange enough to give her pause; it was almost as if some of the weight in his words was because Claude knew that something was amiss. He hardly ever worried for Byleth’s well-being—she was their trusted professor, a former mercenary, and the one person who knew how to strategize on a battlefield better than anyone else. For all the secrets Claude may have kept close to the vest, it was always apparent to her that he respected Byleth and viewed her far more as an equal rather than an idol. War wasn’t something meant to be glorified or idolized, and though he always seemed to have schemes and tricks up his sleeves, not a single one of them came away from a kill with joy. Claude never treated it that way, either. Just as everyone else in their class did, he respected her ability and understood the reasoning behind her actions. He admired it because they could all learn from it, but didn't want to idolize or glorify the horrors of war. It was a deep level of respect; Byleth did what was necessary on the battlefield and they all had learned a great deal from her guidance.

This time, though—the worry he carried seemed palpable and Hilda really didn’t know why that was. No matter how he tried to brush it off with the same tone he always used, there was something there, lurking beneath everything he often seemed to keep at arm’s length. She wasn’t sure—had she missed something in the heat of battle that would even give Claude reason to react like that? The way he seemed to oscillate so wildly between being serious and laid-back left Hilda feeling uneasy.

“Claude…” She’d started in response; she wanted to say that it would be better for them to look together instead of separating amid all the carnage and rubble. But it didn’t seem like Claude wanted her company, not with the way he immediately rebuffed Hilda’s attempt.

“Help Lorenz and Marianne, and keep an eye out for the others, too. Let them know the plan, I’ll do the same until we can round  _ everyone _ up.” She could hardly get a word in edgewise before Claude had offered an empty smile and turned to be on his way.

Hilda was left there for a moment, alone and dumbfounded. It was another oddity, after all. Even though she knew Claude wasn't truly a fool, it felt completely different than the other brief instances where she'd noticed it. Claude had gone from seeming like a questionable trickster with dubious ties to House Riegan to seeming positively  _ in charge _ . It was as if something bloomed in him so immediately, a maturation that was almost _too_ sudden. Even through his obvious and focused concerns, he didn’t seem to lose sight of how much they had on their plates in the aftermath of the battle, and he didn’t hesitate to ensure they were helping their own cause, rather than hurting it. Even with his blatant concerns for Byleth coming to the forefront, he'd done what he could to assure her that he wasn't solely focused on that issue. It wasn’t new for Hilda to wonder just what may have been going through his head, or what his goals truly were—but in that moment, she felt almost helpless. Her eyes remained trained on his back as he darted through the smoldering debris, until he was barely within her line of sight. 

“Guess there’s  _ really _ no time for a nap today. You’ve got too much to do, Hilda…”

The sound of Hilda’s voice never reached Claude’s ears; even if she were still in earshot, he found it easier to focus on the sound of his own footfalls as he progressed. Each step was heavy, but measured—like everything else he did, he ensured he wasn’t rash in his actions. Despite the strange, building anxiety that twisted knots in his stomach, he didn’t allow it to get the better of him. Finding Byleth was important, but it couldn’t be his only priority. He would never allow it, either; the second he gave in to a goal that was both single-minded  _ and _ selfish…

Well, then he may as well have been making the same heel-face turn he’d seen in Edelgard and Dimitri over the last while. 

He didn’t like that he couldn’t shake the feeling, however. Even as he looked for others and began to work out a plan in his head to figure out what they needed to do next, the unease was mounting. Byleth wasn’t someone he  _ needed _ to worry about; he was well aware of that. She was completely capable on her own; she’d never needed the Golden Deer or anyone at Garreg Mach at all in order to be competent—doubly so with the Sword of the Creator now in her possession. Yet still, the chaos of the battlefield had rattled him just enough. The all-out war zone, he could handle. He’d been as prepared for that as he could have been, as much as anyone really could be when they didn’t want to resort to those measures.

It was the force that shook the battlefield, the dragon overhead—it certainly resembled the illustrations he’d seen of the Immaculate One, before Seteth had confiscated the related materials. But why… 

Why would the Immaculate One show up right then and there, if that was the case? Why didn’t he see Byleth again after that? Why—

“Raphael, please, just put me down already. I can walk just fine on my own…” Claude was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of Ingatz’s voice; he rounded the corner to an unexpected sight.

That sight was Raphael's hulking form, holding a certainly exasperated and embarrassed Ignatz in a princess carry. It didn’t take long to see why—he was bleeding somewhat heavily from the leg, in what Claude could easily presume was from taking a direct hit from an arrow. 

“Don’t make such a fuss, Ignatz! You really think I’m just gonna let you walk it off? You could barely stand just now! We’ll get you back to the infirmary and have Professor Manuela look at. I’ll have you there in no time!”

“Settle down, kids,” The interjection came with the same casual, but muted relief he had offered to Hilda. Truth be told, he could see that even with the blood loss, it wasn’t likely to be a threat on Ignatz’s life to have taken an injury like that. A little white magic, a little bed rest, and there wasn’t any doubt that he’d be as good as new in a few days. And truly, that was a relief, as far as Claude was concerned. With the confirmation that those two were still standing, they were just a few steps closer to having everyone in their group accounted for.

“Oh! Claude… You’re all right. I mean, not that I thought you would be, but…” Ignatz offered a smile through a small wince of pain—an indication that maybe he’d taken a few more hits elsewhere than he wanted to admit to either Claude _or _Raphael right then.

“Nothing a little healing TLC can’t fix right up,” A statement that was undoubtedly true. Though Claude hadn’t gotten out of the fight completely unscathed, he’d dealt with worse. A few bruised ribs beneath his armor was easy enough to push through; even if he knew he may not be singing the same tune once the adrenaline had eased, it sufficed for the time being. “Anyway, you two should get back to the monastery. Or whatever’s left of it now. Get yourselves cleaned up, take a breather. Maybe get something to eat. “

“Shouldn’t you get something to eat too, Claude? You’ll probably collapse if you keep going after a fight like that.”

Claude’s initial response to Raphael’s question was to shake his head. “I’ll grab something later. We’ve still got some people unaccounted for, so I’m gonna keep looking until we find everyone, or until nightfall. Whichever comes first. Once the sun’s down, we’ll do a proper headcount.”

“If you’re sure, but I really think you should eat something. Give ya more energy to keep searching!”

“And besides that… we should be helping you look. It’s still really bad out here. There are probably a lot of people who are injured.”

Claude waved them both off with a laugh that was as empty as his smile. “No need to worry about me. Take care of yourselves first—we’ve got a lot of work ahead of us… this war’s only just getting started.” 

The response was hardly atypical coming from Claude. Being waved off was just like him; for all that he relied on them, and for all that he was reliable when push came to shove, he was often difficult to read. At a time like this one, it felt impossible for either of them to do so. Even though Claude had shrugged off their words, made a basic plan, and showed concern for their well-being, Raphael and Ignatz alike weren’t blind to the fact that there was an unscalable wall between them in that moment that hadn’t previously existed. Quiet, strange, subdued—it was impossible to discern what the cause of it had been. It was as if someone had pulled a lever and brought out a side of Claude that nobody knew existed.

Yet all the same, there was nothing overtly changed, not much at all to differentiate this Claude from the one that had helped lead them into battle just hours earlier. Maybe that was just what it meant to be the legitimate heir to House Riegan, but it wasn’t as if there was anything they could say, not when they could hardly even pinpoint just what it was they sensed in him beyond general urgency.

“Don’t forget,” Claude wasn’t going to give either of them a chance to question him properly, despite seeing the curious look in their expressions. “Nightfall. If you see anyone else from the class, let them know. Hilda’s clued in already, but I haven’t seen anyone else just yet.”

Questions could always come later, as far as he was concerned. Claude was sure there would be plenty of them, after all. His Golden Deer classmates had every right, or perhaps no right at all to have them, after all. He’d always gone out of his way to be flippant, to keep everyone at a distance, to not let them in. He had to, for his own protection; he couldn’t lead the Golden Deer  _ or  _ the Leicester Alliance if they’d caught wind of his Almyran upbringing. He allowed himself to be ostracized for the petty things, like his scheming and closed-off tendencies, but not for the blood he was born with, nor the place he called home up until he up and moved to Fódlan.

Because of that, they saw a joker, a schemer, someone of questionable background who had suddenly appeared to be a "legitimate heir". They didn’t see a “savage, uncivilized Almyran,” nor did they see a capable leader. They didn’t truly see the side of him that understood the ins and outs of the world’s politics, that had experienced countless hardships because he was a “filthy half-breed,” they didn’t see someone who had real goals or a desire to better the world. Then again, he hadn’t given them a reason to think that existed within him. He kept his heritage quiet; it was easier to cull the discriminatory remarks and sidelong gazes if they didn’t know anything about it to begin with, after all. Until then, it had been better to let them think he was an innocuous troublemaker, and even easier to allow them to think he didn't have any tangible goals.

Not that it was the most unfair assessment, given the fact that Claude himself had hardly any idea how to achieve his goals until recently. He’d come to the Officer’s Academy to seek out that goal,and the takeaway was turning out to be more than he could have anticipated. What could have been just about acquiring Heroes’ Relics to utilize them for a greater good turned into something so much more; he’d never expected to meet someone who could work in tandem with him so easily. He couldn't have anticipated that there would be another person in the world (and in Fódlan, especially) that could be both his equal and his guide. Someone who could understand what he sought, and carry out the necessary battle tactics while he made the plans that stretched beyond said battlefield.

It was partially for that reason that Claude knew he needed to find Byleth. Hardly the only reason, as his feelings had been way more complicated than just that—everything was always just a little complicated with him, after all.

With the way Edelgard had turned her back on everyone—the Church of Seiros, the Kingdom and the Alliance—the way she had cast aside the relative peace for her own goals (whatever those may have been), Claude wasn’t going to sit idly by. Even as he searched the battlefield for his classmates, comrades, and revered professor, his mind was racing with a thousand plans at once. How to figure out the secrets that led to this moment, how to utilize his impending power for good, how to get through what would undoubtedly be a long and drawn out war and make both Fódlan and the world alike a better place with the least amount of lives lost. Death was inevitable in war, he knew, but all the same… there had to be a way to utilize this for his benefit. For  _ everyone’s _ benefit.

But Claude’s racing thoughts couldn’t produce a miracle. Amid the rubble, smoldering buildings and aftermath of a bloody battle, he’d found much. He’d spotted soldiers that had been wounded. He’d seen students of the academy who didn’t fare well against the Adrestian army. He’d seen his own classmates pulling the injured from beneath debris. Everything was in absolute shambles—but nowhere within any of the mess had he spotted even a trace of Byleth. It was as if she, and the Sword of the Creator along with it, had vanished into thin air.

Claude was relentless, even as the sun was setting over Garreg Mach. More and more people retreated to the monastery to tend to their wounds, rest and regroup. Even Claude himself knew he’d have to give up the ghost soon; he’d made a promise to his class, and the exhausted was settling in, with only his adrenaline keeping him on his feet.

“Still no sign of her?” The sound of Sylvain’s voice, mired with subdued concern, cut through the sound of silence. He paused his moving of fallen bricks and pulled himself upright to find himself faced with Sylvain and Felix. Both were a bit battered, clearly exhausted—and obviously bothered by the situation.

“None. It’s… like she just vanished,” Claude shook his head as he raised his palm against his forehead. “It’s not like her at all.”

“No kidding. She’s better than most of combined on the battlefield. I wonder if she was looking out for someone and—”

“We can talk about it  _ later, _ ” Felix cut off Sylvain’s potentially morbid thought; despite his cold exterior, it wasn’t something he wanted to think about. The idea that someone as capable as Byleth could fall in battle seemed preposterous. She was leagues stronger than him (loathe as he was to admit it), and he was still standing—that alone meant the idea of her falling in battle was one Felix was unwilling to accept. And that didn't even count how irritating he found the subtle crestfallen expression on Claude’s face—he wasn’t doing very good at hiding how much the situation bothered him. “The boar prince has lost whatever the humanity he had left. We have to deal with him before the idiot runs off on his own and meets the wrong end of Edelgard’s axe.”

Claude offered a soft nod as he straightened his posture. “You two worry about Dimitri for now. We can fill in the details tomorrow. It’s not like I’m gonna find much in the dark, so I’m about to head back too.”

Felix said nothing more as he waved off Claude’s words and turned to head back toward the monastery gates. Sylvain offered an apologetic shrug before chasing after Felix and calling out for him.

* * *

The only relief that had been brought to the core Golden Deer class was that they had all made it back alive. Some may have been worse for the wear than others, with varying levels of injuries plaguing them—but each and every one of them would recover just fine with time and rest. That was more than any of them really could have hoped for—so many others didn't fare nearly as well.

“What are we going to do now…” Marianne’s timid voice spoke up from the corner of the room; her gaze fixed tiredly on the floor.

They were all exhausted and at a loss. It was clear that they wanted to search for Byleth, but between their injuries and the clear and present danger that was posed by the Adrestian Empire, there was little getting around what they all knew. Staying at Garreg Mach was more or less out of the question, because it was too much of a liability for them,

“There’s only one thing we  _ can _ do. Our lives are in danger if we stay here at the monastery. This isn’t some small-scale battle anymore—this is  _ war.  _ The Alliance is going to need us more than Garreg Mach is.” Claude spoke decisively, as much as he hated to admit it—as much as he wanted to stay where he was and look for Byleth, it just wasn’t feasible.

“And what about the Professor!? You can’t seriously be saying we just leave her here and go back to our lives in the Alliance!” Leonie was the first to object to the notion; she’d already lost Jeralt. If they lost Byleth too, she was sure to be unable to forgive herself. Especially after having made the promise that she would look out for Jeralt’s only child.

“Come on, Leonie. You know that’s not what I’m saying. The Knights and everyone from the Church are already gathering their resources to find Teach and Rhea. Besides, you think she’d forgive us if we abandoned everything else just to find her?”

Silence fell over the room. Each and every one of them knew Claude was right, and in equal measure, they knew it was hurting him the most of have to be the one to say it. Hilda could see it in his eyes; Marianne could hear it in the way his tone wavered ever-so-slightly; Ignatz could see it in the way Claude’s shoulders remained so tense. For the first time, each and every one of the students of the Golden Deer class were able to see that Claude was putting the betterment of the Alliance over his own personal needs. There were no schemes, there was nothing questionable about it at all—it was duty over sentiments, and very clearly so at that. He wanted to ensure the Alliance would be prepared for the hardships of war, and that his classmates would be safe, even if that meant not finding Byleth immediately.

“Loathe as I may be to admit it, Claude is right,” This time it was Lorenz who spoke up, expression faintly bothered by his own words. “This much is almost certainly our duty, or we’d not have spent time studying here. The Professor would be rather angry at us if we abandoned our duties simply to seek her out. And that is without mentioning…”

“—The Alliance is likely to be divided on the issue. It’s probably a safe bet that a lot of the territories that border the Empire are going to want to play nice to keep from being invaded. Even those who don't side with them are likely to allow it to preserve any semblance of peace they can manage.”

Claude cut off Lorenz’s thought, concise and to the point, leaving Lorenz to just cough in agreement. “Precisely. I have little doubt that my father will be doing just that.”

Lorenz wasn’t keen to admit that either, not while keeping the company of the soon-to-be head of House Riegan. It was a conversation he wanted to avoid, given his own mixed sentiments on the matter, but there was no getting around the fact that they would be dealing with this sort of inner conflict if a war was truly at hand.

“After everyone’s recovered, we’ll start packing up. The sooner we can get out of Garreg Mach, the safer we’ll be. There’s no telling when there may be another attack on the monastery, and with the knights all out to find Rhea and Teach, we’re wide open right now.”

Claude’s words hung heavy over the room. There was little more to say—they’d have time to see if their paths would have reason to cross once they returned to the Alliance. Their peaceful school days had ended, and with little more to say, everyone filed out of the room and to their beds. Nobody felt good about their decision, but it was the most realistic and viable option—and also the one that would shape the future of not just the Leicester Alliance, but Fódlan as a whole in the years to come.

Once everyone had left, Claude made his way outside. He found himself tiredly settling as the edge of the pond’s pier, with his gaze fixed on the sky. The stars were shining brightly, the moon reflected in the ripples of the pond’s waters. Just as he did when he was a child, he found himself praying to the stars that Byleth was okay, that she was able to see the same sky he did—regardless of whether or not she was at his side.

“Guess that’s all I can do for tonight, right, Teach…?” 


	2. Golden Bracelet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years, and he had no intent of giving up on her. Claude may have had plenty on his plate, but once every year, he would return to that promised place with the intent of seeing her face once more. Each year added more experience and maturity, each year brought a new tale to tell, and a new memory to bring back with him to Derdriu. Each year, everyone saw that nobody in all of Fódlan could replace Byleth's presence in his life.
> 
> (Spoilers for Chapter 12 + Golden Deer route)

** _Verdant Wind._ **

** _Ethereal Moon._ **

** _Year 1181._ **

The chill in the air was undeniably that of winter, blowing in from Faerghus to the north with frigid blasts that could cut through warmth like steel into flesh. The sky was clear, the light of the moon shining over Fódlan’s landscape. 

All was quiet, save for the rare and subtle sounds that permeated the night. The hoot of an owl; the call of a wolf; the muffled sounds of soldiers on watch duty at their critical strongholds, waiting and wondering when the next battle may occur. But they were little more than fleeting noises, they reached Claude’s ears but didn’t at all resonate with him. All he could focus on was the sound of his own heartbeat, and the flap of his wyvern’s wings as he soared through the night sky. Each movement was deliberate and with purpose, and with the pace of their flight, Claude was more than aware that he’d make it to his destination by daybreak. 

He only had a single day to accomplish his goal—the ever-escalating precarious state of the Alliance in light of the war meant that Claude didn’t have the time to be away from his own territory for very long at all. Though he hadn’t yet taken full control of the Leicester Alliance, by year’s end, he would certainly be formally awarded the title of Duke Riegan; then he’d be able to start putting his own plans into action in order to forge a united front and work through the war in order to kickstart achieving his dreams. With such limited time, it meant he had none to waste, and very little to spend on what he _ wanted _ to.

_ One day. _

One day was all the time he had to spend in the area around Garreg Mach. One day to ask the remaining townsfolk in the hamlet if they’d seen any signs of Byleth. One day to check the grounds of the monastery to see if anyone—if _ she _ had returned to her quarters at any point. One day to search the area, and maybe to fly down into the valley. While he didn’t want to have to seek out the worst, Claude knew he had to be prepared for it. He clutched the wyvern’s reins tightly as he continued to soar through beneath the stars over the Alliance territory.

When the peaks of the monastery’s cathedral came into view, it was just as the sun was starting to come up over the horizon. It was strange, nostalgic even—despite only months having passed since he’d last seen it—it felt like coming home, in a sense. He hardly considered Fódlan his home at all, let alone Garreg Mach; even still, the memories of his time with the Golden Deer class brought a sense of warmth and familiarity that couldn’t be matched. It already felt like as if it were a lifetime ago, and yet there he was, ready to seek out the past as if he would be able to pluck away what he needed and walk away with no consequence.

He knew what he was after was a longshot, after all. The promised day was still years away, but the date stuck with Claude fiercely, like a constant tug at his mind that he was completely unable to ignore. It wasn’t as if he truly believed he would arrive and find Byleth waiting for him there; he expected so much less than that. But he couldn’t just give up on the person who had given him so much; even if he never saw her again, he couldn’t lose heart and hope that she was out there somewhere. The optimist that existed within him warred with his realistic side—a swirling inner conflict of not giving up on Byleth being alive, but all the same, having no expectations that he’d find even a sign of her again.

That realism came to fruition easily upon landing; the monastery was all but abandoned. Though Claude took his time to navigate the one-bustling grounds, there was very little to be found. Piles of rubble from collapsed stones of the cathedral’s facade as well as other buildings on the grounds lined the pathways. Signs of thieves and rogues breaking into the dorms to loot any remaining valuables they could find were apparent—but save for those minor things, it was clear that very few had dared step foot on the grounds after the Battle of Garreg Mach.

“Guess we’re calling that one a bust…” He sighed the words to himself some time later; though Claude had expected as much, it was no less disappointing. After having spent nearly two hours scouring the grounds of the monastery, there had been nothing of worth to see. The whole of Garreg Mach monastery had become a ghost town, with very little remaining to indicate that just months ago, it had been filled with students, members of the church, and knights. “Looks like this will be an even shorter trip than I planned.”

Claude still had every intention of checking the site of the battle; he knew he was far more likely to find any sign of what he was looking for there than at the monastery, after all. The likelihood was still low, of course—he was more than aware that the Knights of Seiros had searched high and low for signs of both Rhea and Byleth and yet had come up with nothing. That was exactly why they had been expanding their reach as far as possible without getting entrenched too deeply in the war, but they had turned up nothing to that point, at last Claude had heard. Yet still, there were likely places missed by the recovery effort—and if that was the case, it couldn’t hurt to do a little extra searching. Sometimes, a pair of fresh eyes could be the difference when it came to discovering something, after all.

Though he had been there for the battle, there wasn’t anything easy about returning to that place. So much had been lost on that day, and in a manner that Claude considered senseless. Edelgard had declared war, she had turned her back on people who trusted her—and still, he did not know or understand her motivations for taking measures so drastic. He believed, truly, that she had a reason for her approach, but he couldn’t yet understand what it was, or what drove her to that point. Only time would tell—but in that moment, all he could really see was the wreckage. His gaze met with the rubble he’d sifted through more than once before he’d returned to Derdriu, and the memories that had gotten pushed the deeper corners of his mind out of necessity were pulled to the surface.

The smell of burning debris, the corpses buried beneath them, the subtle panic in his chest as he searched and realized that Byleth was nowhere to be found—they were all unpleasant memories, thought they were also ones he could never deny. It served as a reminder to not allow himself to forget those feelings just because he had to keep moving forward. Even though Byleth passed through his thoughts at least once every day, he had pushed many things aside in order to tend to his duties. The moment was brief, but served as a worthy reminder that he could press forward as the war escalated while never forgetting that he had one important goal he wanted to accomplish at any cost.

_ He had to find Byleth. _It was only one goal of many; Claude was ambitious to a fault even if very few saw or understood how deep those ambitions ran. But his other ambitions were in the wings, awaiting the right moment, while this ambition was something he currently was able to take some time to try and tackle.

No matter how he prepared himself for the worst, his optimism was ceaseless enough; he was never going to give up on the idea that she was out there somewhere, _ alive. _ He couldn’t—he _ wouldn’t _. She was far too important, both for Claude to be able to reach his other goals, and to him on a personal level. It didn’t matter how long it could take, how many years may pass before they met again, he wouldn’t relent. He had to let that drive him in some manner—especially on the one day he had for an entire year to pursue that particular goal. Rather than be taken aback by the surprise of his memories, he knew there was work to be done. And if nothing else, Claude was the type to be nothing short of thorough when it truly mattered. 

He spent hours on his search. Hours of digging through rubble, of checking abandoned buildings. By the time he had scoured the parts of the abandoned battlefield that had looked most untouched by any relief efforts, Claude was covered in dirt and soot—and no closer to achieving his goal. There was only so long he could search the same area, and knowing that meant he needed to take the next steps toward was he was seeking.

_ Get cleaned up first, then head into the nearest town. _ That was the next logical step, as far as Claude saw it. There was little reason to hesitate as he called over his wyvern; as he mounted, he knew the quickest course of action would be to use the river that ran beneath the cliffs that comprised Garreg Mach. It was an instance of being able to easily use the terrain to his advantage and take a moment to recoup at the bottom of the canyon before he continued onward. It was with little fanfare that he controlled the reins and began the descent towards the river; nothing could have truly prepared him for what he found when he touched ground once more. 

When Claude dismounted, something caught his eye. An unnatural gleam that reflected in the midday sun that was impossible for his gaze to miss. What it was, he couldn’t be sure of without taking a closer look; Claude knew though, that it was something amiss, unfitting of the landscape where only wildlife seemed to roam. A mere few steps left him in front of the familiar, shining object.

“Of all the places… _ seriously, _Teach. You’re killin’ me here…” 

He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or frown, in all honesty. Despite his exasperated words, he felt more flabbergasted at the sight before him than anything else—even without picking the item up from the rock it was partially stuck beneath, he knew exactly what it was, and who it belonged to. 

A bracelet, delicate and plated in gold, engraved with the symbol of the Golden Deer. There was no way he could forget that, after all—it had been a gift to Byleth from their class for her birthday. In a sense, it had been one of the most thoughtful gifts he’d ever given; though they hadn’t known their professor all that long, it had seemed only right at the time to do something for her. She did plenty for them, after all. She had given up her life as a wandering mercenary to settle at the monastery, she had shifted her focus into teaching them how to be cohesive and effective on the battlefield. Though he’d always thought of mercenaries as lone wolf types, she managed to instill the importance of how necessary it was to use not only their terrain to their advantage, but how to use positioning and each person’s individual skills to secure their victories. They had all grown together and learned so much in a way that Claude was sure wouldn’t have been possible without her guidance. So what was one little gift in the big scheme of things? 

That was how he’d seen it at the time; he had no regrets about that. But seeing the bracelet there, scuffed and detached from its original meaning gave him a feeling he wasn’t entirely sure how to reconcile. Far from the person who valued that small item so dearly, detached from any meaning and left abandoned beside a river—he couldn’t let it lay like that. Claude crouched down to pick it up, and with it clasped in his hands, he couldn’t help himself but to recall the last time he’d seen that bracelet.

* * *

The day had largely been an uneventful one; Byleth had given her individual instructions during the morning session, and the students of the Golden Deer class had been milling about the classroom toward the end of their lunch break. Most had returned to the classroom and took their seats, while a few others chatted casually as they awaited their instructor’s return.

“Hey… everyone! We’ve got... a _ serious _ situation here!” Leonie had barreled back into the classroom, slightly short of breath and with little regard for what everyone else may have been doing at that given moment. Nearly every gaze in the room shifted curiously toward her.

“What kind of ‘serious situation’ are we talking about here, Leonie?” Claude was the one to take the initiative to indulge her; if it was that dire, it would have been his duty to step in.

“The Professor…”

Still short of breath, Leonie took a moment to press her hand against the doorframe, shifting her weight as she heaved and tried to regain her composure. Claude, in response, stood up a little straighter, as if suddenly on alert from her unfinished statement.

“What about Teach? Is she hurt or something?”

Not that Claude could have easily imagined that Byleth would have gotten hurt in the dining hall, but Leonie’s choice of words was mildly alarming. She cut his thoughts off as the pass however, offering a shake of her head before she finished her thought. “Her birthday… end of this week. Captain Jeralt told me...”

Claude’s shoulders dropped, faint tension having drained from them. It definitely hadn’t been the kind of situation that he was expecting. Still—it _ was _ pretty serious. Byleth had always offered flowers or afternoon tea to students both inside and out of the Golden Deer house for their birthdays. It would have been wrong for them to not go above and beyond in return.

“Teach’s birthday, huh… figures she wouldn’t tell us about it. Now that we know, we can’t ignore it, though. What do you guys think, what should we do for her?”

The room went silent for a moment, it gave everyone pause to consider what they should do for the occasion. Byleth wasn’t one to talk much about herself; though many had gleaned things here and there from the time they spent with her, nobody had a cohesive idea of what they should do. 

“We could go the safest route and get her a new sword, or maybe some armor…” Lysithea proposed as she looked up from the book she had been reading.

“Keep it on the table, but maybe we should think about something a little more personal.”

“Um…” A quiet voice, Marianne’s interjected softly. “Maybe… someone could bake her cake?”

“Whoa, that’s a great idea, Marianne!” Raphael exclaimed. “We can make the Professor the biggest cake Garreg Mach’s ever seen! No way she won’t like something like that!”

“Wouldn’t a cake be better as a supplement?” Ignatz wondered, thoughtfully curious. “It’s not something she would be able to keep. It would be nice if it were something she could keep even after we graduate.”

Once more, the room went quiet as the students contemplated the options they would have with the criteria given. There was no disagreement about the counterpoint Ignatz had made; they wanted it to be a gift Byleth would remember. They didn’t need to be told outright, after all, that the reason Jeralt had mentioned her birthday was because he wanted them to do something for her. Each Golden Deer student could easily surmise that Byleth probably never put too much value on her birthday, that she didn’t often celebrate it. If they had this opportunity, they would have to put it to good use and make it something special.

“Well, my brother _ did _ send me this cute bracelet a while back,” Hilda offered as her body swayed from side-to-side in thought. “It’s not really my style, though. Maybe that could work?”

A weighted sigh escaped Lorenz, expression contorted into that of mild disdain. “Talk about tactless. Someone of your upbringing should have more decorum than to _ regift _ something for an occasion so important. Especially a gift from the renowned Lord Holst; you really ought to rethink such a tasteless idea.”

“No, no. I think Hilda’s onto something here,” Claude waved off the statement dismissively; he wasn’t interested in the nobility discourse that was bound to happen if they let Lorenz continue on with his indignant blathering. “It’s not really a regift if we make it unique anyway, right?”

“Make it… unique…?” Marianne’s voice was small, curious and a little wary of whatever it was Claude may have had in mind.

“Just leave it to me. Hilda, bring me the bracelet after class—I got this. Teach’ll have the most one-of-a-kind gift in all of Fódlan come the end of the week.”

Hilda nodded in response, though her expression seemed to match Marianne’s in how wary she was. “Leave it to you, Claude, to come up with a scheme for something like this—”

“She’s coming, we’ll talk about it later!” Leonie had cut Hilda’s statement off prematurely as Byleth made her way back toward the classroom; everyone had immediately hushed while Claude and Hilda exchanged nods of confirmation to enact their plan once their classes for the day were through.

* * *

Claude had gone above and beyond to ensure that the bracelet would be exactly what they needed it to be. Once Hilda had handed it over, he was able to use his title as heir to House Riegan (as well as a hefty sum of gold) to expedite the process. By the evening before Byleth’s birthday, he had one bracelet engraved with the symbol of the Golden Deer, set in a box that was topped with a neatly wrapped bow. Attached would be a short note that he wrote himself—and then left tied to the doorknob of Byleth’s room.

The morning of her birthday, Claude arose from his bed before sunrise. Though it would have been nice to give it to her during class, he wanted to ensure she got the gift on her birthday—but it was their day off, so he’d only had one option if he wanted to guarantee it getting there on time. He wanted to see her reaction; so he put his own little scheme into play in order to kill two birds with one stone.

Perhaps at the time, he couldn’t quite reconcile the idea of being so direct with her. Not when he was so used to hiding behind his schemer’s mask; it was far easier to handle it in the mischievous way his classmates would have expected of him. So he remained out of sight, eyes trained on her door from a distance and awaited her exit from the room. He was sure it would be early; though she spoke little of it, Byleth was the sort to head to the training grounds early each day to keep her form in top shape. Even if she found time later on to do so again, she was up at the crack of dawn each morning like clockwork; he’d heard as much from other students who spent a lot of time at the training grounds.

His intel hadn’t failed him; as the sun began to come up over the horizon and bring faint light to the sky, the door to Byleth’s room opened with a faint creak. Rather than the repeated sound of a creak as the door closed, there was silence. Perhaps a curious hum, but it wasn’t one Claude could make out from the distance at which he stood to avoid being noticed by Byleth’s keen senses.

What he lost in not being able to hear her, though, was compensated all too well in what he could see. She read the note, eyes wide with surprise at the contents. Curiously, she tucked the small note away in her cloak before she opened her box—surely, Claude thought for a moment his heart would stop at what had transpired next. Her expression softened in a way he had never seen from her; even on the rare occasions that she smiled or seemed excited by their victories, she had never looked so… almost _ delicate _. She had let her fingers glide over the cool metal of the bracelet, and as she did so, her smile was soft—endeared, or perhaps even a little touched.

In Claude’s chest, his heart started to pound similarly to when he experienced his own victories’ thrills, when he was given commendations for excelling in battle. It was a little different, to be certain—he had been so focused on ensuring the gift would be a good one for Byleth that he hadn’t even taken a single moment to consider _ why _ he had pushed so hard for such a thing.

“Mission success,” He’d murmured to himself after a moment; Claude had turned away, satisfied with her reaction and quite honestly having needed a second to regain his composure in full—though he hadn’t been given nearly enough time to recover.

“...Thank you, Claude.” Byleth’s voice cut through his thoughts, and though he was uncharacteristically startled by it, he didn’t let it show in his expression.

“Sneaking up on a guy a daybreak? I guess you have that mercenary’s rep for a reason after all, Teach.” He offered a laugh, albeit a weak one as he shrugged off her gratitude.

“Says the one talking to himself like I’d be unable to hear it. My little Golden Deer’s voice is a bit louder than birdsong.” 

That was the thing about Byleth—she was surprisingly good at both playing along _ and _ giving Claude a run for his money. It had been just one of many reasons why he found himself drawn to her, why he’d found his trust in her steadily growing with each passing day that she was their instructor at the Officer’s Academy. She didn’t give him any quarter, but she also never treated him any differently for it.

“What can I say? A deer’s just gotta sing sometimes,” With a faint ruffle of his hair, he shifted the topic back to why she’d approached him to begin with. “Anyway, it’s no big deal. Just a little gift from your precious Deer, nothing to make a fuss about.”

In response, Byleth shook her head softly. “Nobody has ever given me a birthday gift before.”

Her voice was quiet, though not full of lamentation in the least. She didn’t seem bothered at all by the fact she was stating; instead, it seemed more that she was quietly but wholly grateful that it had happened at all.

“Seriously? Not even your dad? I figured at least _ he’d _ do something like that...”

“It wasn’t so easy. We were always on the move, and none of the other mercenaries celebrated their own, either. I never thought much about birthdays until I came here.”

That in itself had been surprising enough to Claude; Byleth always went out of her way to do something for everyone else’s birthday. He wondered if maybe it was just another way Garreg Mach had begun to change to her, or if maybe some part of her had always longed for those things the rest of the students took for granted. There was no way of knowing without asking—but Claude didn’t see it as necessary. Not right then and there, at least.

“Hey, Teach. Give me your hand.”

“Excuse me?” Byleth responded, incredulous.

“Just trust me, will you…”

She nodded, reluctant, and then held out her hand for him.

“Now, give me the bracelet,” With another nod, Byleth complied. It was over nearly as quickly as he’d asked, but Claude took that brief moment to put the bracelet on her wrist, deftly clasping it closed. “See, all done.”

Somehow, it had surprised her that Claude could do so with ease; she wasn’t much for jewelry herself—and Byleth had been more than aware that she was going to struggle to put it on by herself. Claude knew the same, though he didn’t say it aloud. It was quicker for him to take matters into his own hands—and then, at the very least, he felt he could do one more thing for her. Something that was from him, and him alone. Byleth took a moment to look at the brilliant golden shine on her wrist; though she knew it would often be covered by her armor… it was certainly something special. Her lips curved into the smallest of smiles, and for his part, despite his easy smile… Claude’s heart felt like it was soaring.

He clasped her hand in his and gave a gentle tug. “Now, since I’m already up and about at this fine hour… what do you say we have an early morning session? Your sword against my bow.”

Casual as ever, he worked his charms easily and Byleth offered a characteristically quiet nod, all the more ready to work on her morning training routine with the scheming house leader who had done so much for her.

* * *

It was a moment for Claude to remember fondly; a moment where their entire class had used the skills Byleth had given them to truly work together for a cause. Beyond that, it was a moment in which he recalled the way his own feelings and perspectives had been growing and changing. Like Byleth, their days at the monastery had been ones of growth; a place where they came into their own. They grew together both on the battlefield and off—a team that seemed nigh unstoppable by others. 

He could recall the way each passing day, he would see something new from her. He could recall the way she’d smile proudly at their growth in skill; how she would frown when he’d go overboard on his scheming plots that he never intended to truly carry out; how she never really bought into the persona he put forward because that was what everyone else saw in him. And even now, with her nowhere to be found, he could see the way she valued those things just as much as he had, for even on the day of such a decisive battle, she had been wearing the bracelet he’d put on her wrist on that comfortable early morning.

“I’ll get it back to you, Teach,” It was a promise he spoke out loud to an audience of no one at the bed of the river, bracelet clenched tightly in his hand still. He wasn’t going to give up, even if it had been plainly obvious she had taken a terrible fall into a place that wasn’t promising in the least. “Even if it’s not today, so you better wait for it.”

Not that day, not the next. Maybe not even for another year, when he could escape his duties—but one thing was for absolute certain: Claude’s hope had only gotten stronger, strong enough to match his own willpower.


End file.
